Page 32 of Breaking Point (IceHawks #1)
Bella
BELLA
so you were right
LAYLA
I usually am ;)
but what am I right about this time?
BELLA
puck bunnies are 100% a thing
T he trunk of Layla’s car slams shut as she turns to me. “You asked what ?”
I hide my grimace in the palm of my hand. “I asked him if he was sleeping with bunnies.”
“I heard you the first time, I just can’t believe it came out of your mouth.” She schools her features, picking up her jaw off the floor. “Well…?”
“Well, what?”
“What did he say?”
Leaning against her car, I quickly glance toward my mom’s house, checking that she isn’t out front. “He didn’t have the reaction I expected.”
Layla makes a go-on motion with her hand. If she was sitting down, she’d be on the edge of her seat. Biting my lower lip, the look that Grayson gave me pops into my mind. “He was a little hurt that I asked.”
Layla’s brows shoot up. “He was?”
I nod. “He said he wouldn’t embarrass me like that and would never put me in such an uncomfortable situation considering the lengths I’m going to help him stay on the team.”
She blows out a breath as she leans against her car with me. It’s saying something that we’re both motionless in the cold November air. The weatherman is forecasting snow this week.
“That’s…very sweet of him,” Layla whispers.
“Extremely,” I agree. “I felt horrible after and today is one of my first days scheduled off so I can’t apologize to him now that I’m sober.” Or write out a note full of sincerity.
“Did you apologize when it happened?”
“Of course! But I could tell he was still hurt by it.”
Layla lays a hand on my shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, B. He’s a hockey player. Professional athletes are notorious for cheating. I would have asked the same considering the circumstances.”
I know what she’s saying is true but the hurt that flickered across his gaze, the way his smile fell, gutted me. I don’t ever want to put such a sad look in his eyes again.
Layla pushes off the car. “How did it go by the way? The game?”
I shrug. “Went as well as to be expected. One of the player’s girlfriends, Cindy, is really nice. You’d love her.”
She throws her hands in the air. “Of course I have to leave town just as your life is getting entertaining.” She points an accusing finger my way as she walks backwards up the driveway. “I want details while I’m gone. Lengthy paragraph details.”
I snort. “Layla, we haven’t gone a day without talking since middle school. I’m not going to start now.”
“Good, and speaking of the game, how did your mom take the news?”
At my slight grimace, Layla pauses, her eyes widening. “Please tell me you told your mom.” When I don’t correct her, her jaw drops. “Bella! How does she think you’re paying for her treatment?”
Before she can protest, I open the door, saying as I pass, “You’re helping me tell her tonight.” At her stunned gasp, I rush inside, calling for my mom so Layla can’t leave or scold me. “Mom! Layla’s here!”
Layla comes up behind me, mumbling under her breath, “You owe me for this.”
My smile is forced as my mom rounds the corner, shuffling in her pajamas. She’s deteriorating every day. I should have told her sooner, but I wanted to wait until the money hit my account. A part of me was also being selfish.
I’m terrified of her reaction.
Even more terrified at the thought that she’ll refuse treatment and I’ll have to continue to watch her die before my very eyes.
Mom spreads out her arms, a genuine smile touching her cheeks. “Layla, are you joining us tonight?”
Layla hugs my mom but it’s softer than usual, more careful with her fragile frame. “Of course, Trisha.” She pulls back, keeping an arm wrapped around my mom as she steers her toward the living room. “Which documentary are we watching tonight?”
My mom perks up at that. “Well, there is a new tell-all about Jack the Ripper. Did you know they finally identified him?”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and pulling it out, I’m not at all prepared to see what I do. A hiss of breath leaves me as I open my phone to a photo of Grayson, shirtless .
Granted, I can’t see much besides the glimmering skin of his chest as it peeks out behind the takeout containers he’s got sitting in front of him. I don’t realize I’m smiling until my cheeks begin to ache.
GRAYSON
Kieran ate all my food so I had to order takeout. Can confirm that it’s horrible compared to your cooking.
Before I can judge myself or think about it, I quickly save the image he sent.
BELLA
I’m sure it’s not THAT bad
His response is instant. Any lingering worries I had about upsetting this giant golden retriever of a man fade away as I read the text.
GRAYSON
I put it outside. Even the ants are running in the other direction
BELLA
Making offerings to your people?
GRAYSON
are you saying I’m small?
BELLA
You know you’re not small
GRAYSON
do I though?
you’ve given me a complex now
you have to fix what you broke
“Bella?”
My head snaps up at my mother’s voice. “Hmm?” I ask.
Her eyes feel like they’re peering into my soul. “Who’s got you smiling like that?”
Layla rounds the corner with wide eyes at hearing my mom’s question.
I stutter, “O-oh nothing! Just a funny meme.” Speedwalking past them, I throw over my shoulder, “Let’s get this documentary started!”
The one thing my mom always knew growing up was when I liked someone. It was as if she were a sniffer dog at an airport and I was a grenade. She would know before I knew, and that’s why when she keeps looking at me out of the corner of her eye and smiling to herself, I find myself panicking.
T he end credits roll for the second documentary we’ve watched tonight, and I can feel Layla’s gaze searing a hole into the side of my head. Along with my buzzing phone from the dozens of text messages she’s no doubt furiously typed away at me to hurry up and tell my mom before she explodes.
My mom has always had a pull over Layla. She’s never been able to keep things from her for long. My mom is like her second mother, and vice versa.
“Is someone going to talk?” my mom suddenly asks.
I sit upright. “Talk about what?”
“Whatever it is Layla is texting you to tell me.”
My brows furrow. “How?” My head snaps to Layla. “Did you tell her?”
“No, she didn’t, but you just did.” My mom’s smile is small, tired I realize. “Just tell me, Bella.”
Taking a deep breath, I move into a seated position, Layla doing the same on the couch she’s sitting on beside my mom.
Rip the Band-Aid off, Bella.
Just rip the Band-Aid off.
Steeling my spine, I say, “I acquired the funds needed for your treatment. I spoke to Dr. Stewart and you start the medication and the lengthy treatment program on Monday.”
My mom’s eyes are no longer dull and meek. They’re round and wide, open with surprise as her jaw unhinges. My gaze slides to Layla’s and back. We’re both waiting.
“Mom?” I probe. “Did you hear me?”
Of course she heard me, what a stupid question to ask. It’s why she’s gone into shock. She says nothing, only blinks at me slowly as if she’s trying to figure out whether this is a dream or not.
Her lips move but no sound escapes. Did I break her ?
“Trisha?” Layla says softly, worry etched across her forehead.
Now I’m certainly glad Layla is here for this.
Finally, my mom rights herself and asks, “How?”
“That…is where I need you to take a deep breath and let me explain.”
She leans forward, moving into a seated position herself. “Do not give me a heart attack, Isabella Rose Stratford.”
Wincing at the use of my full legal name, my fingers tap on the couch in a pattern of three. Swallowing thickly, I take a deep breath and explain, “My new boss, Grayson Crawford?—”
“The hockey player,” she states flatly.
“Yes. He and his agent offered me a deal that paid enough to cover the treatment, so I took it.”
She gazes at me warily, not missing a beat as she asks, “What was the offer, Bella?”
Despite the churning in my stomach, I steel my heart for an argument. “A PR relationship.”
If I thought my mother’s eyes were wide before, that was nothing compared to how large they grow now. She jumps to her feet, suddenly fast in her movements. “I will not sell my daughter to a hockey player for treatment!” she explodes.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath.
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain!”
I look at her dubiously. “Mom, you’re not religious.”
“Maybe that’s where I went wrong in life! I will not sell my child!”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Mom, you’re not selling me, and yes, I will continue to do it if it means it saves your life.”
“Not for this price.”
“It’s not all that bad,” Layla chimes in, hurriedly going on as my mother turns her wrathful gaze on my best friend. “All she has to do is appear to be in a relationship with him in public, nothing else.”
My mom’s chest is heaving, far too quickly for my liking. “Mom, please sit down,” I beg, softening my voice. “Please.”
“Why? ”
“ Why? Mom, you’re dying,” I say bluntly. “I will do anything to keep you here.”
Her lip quivers. “You shouldn’t have to do this for me.”
“Trust me, it isn’t that hard of a task,” I mutter.
Layla leans over. “He’s really attractive, Bella’s type to a T, but she’s in denial.”
That makes my mother pause. “You don’t mind pretending?”
Rolling my eyes, I slump back into the couch, just grateful she isn’t yelling about me being sold anymore.
“Of course I do. It’s strange to pretend to like someone, but he’s sweet and very considerate about boundaries”— tell that to the half-naked picture burning a hole in my phone —“and a gentleman.”
My mom’s lips purse. “I still don’t like this. No gentlemen would do this.”
“Actually, lots of?—”
“Books don’t count, Layla,” my mom cuts in.
“They should,” she mutters.
Lifting my chin with defiance, my mother does the same, and I quickly jump in before she can.
“I love you and I respect you and it’s because I do that I’m putting my foot down.
You are getting the treatment, and you will accept the money.
” I lower my voice to a whisper. “I don’t care what I have to do to save your life. Why can’t you understand that?”
She’s quiet for a moment.
“I do understand that, and it worries me that you will lose yourself in the process of trying to save me. You have your whole life ahead of?—”
“So do you if you get the treatment,” I say, cutting her off.
She huffs. “You’re not going to back down, are you?”
“No,” I say as Layla snorts.
“No offense, Trisha, but she is your daughter. Look at the both of you, ready to go to battle to save one another.”
My brow quirks at the same time my mom’s does. The mirrored movement only further proves Layla’s point, making the three of us burst into a fit of laughter.
It’s the first real belly laugh I’ve heard from my mom in weeks, and I don’t care that it started out as her screaming. I’m doing the right thing if my mother laughs at the end of it.
Taking a seat next to me, my mom wraps me in a hug, and I make it my mission to ignore her protruding bones that stick into me as she kisses the top of my head.
“I’ll do it, love. I’ll do it.”
The sigh that leaves me is accentuated by a tear of relief trickling down my cheek.
My mom has a chance to live after all.